Team Free Will 2 0
by reboo345
Summary: He was empty. She was tired. He was lost. She was broken. He was alone. They were all pieces of puzzle that didn't fit together. This is the story about how a powerless demon spawn, a vessel without her angel, a boy who didn't know who he was, a hunter who stopped hunting too early, and monster that didn't want to be a monster somehow managed to save the world.
1. Intro

**Team Free Will 2.0**

The demons decoded the angel tablet. The Winchesters are dead. The angels and their vessels are either all dead or locked in heaven. The world is ruled by demons. They are rising Lucifer from hell again. The good in the world is beyond unbalanced. There are few who fight for good. Most who do are dead and then get tortured in hell. Some even became the very thing they hunted. But five very damaged souls managed to get their point across.

He was empty. She was tired. He was alone. She was broken. He was lost. They were all pieces of puzzle that didn't fit together. This is the story about how a powerless demon spawn, a vessel without her angel, a hunter who'd never hunted, a hunter who stopped hunting too early, and monster that didn't want to be a monster saved the world.


	2. Jesse

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that appear in the story. Kripke does.**

**Chapter 1: Jesse**

_It's funny how one small thing can change the course of your entire life._

Jesse Turner pondered over this. One small thing. Mind you, in his case the thing was rather large and very significant.

Jesse had been on the run his whole entire life. He hated to admit it to himself though. He was constantly being hunted. Every monster was after him. And he ran. But his knew for a fact his life wouldn't be like this. If it wasn't for the Winchesters.

Everything in his life went sour when the Winchesters came. People started dying. He could do things that he'd never been able to do before. That he didn't _want _to be able to do. Everyone had lied to him. About everything imaginable. Literally. That was when he began running.

First he went to Australia. Everything was good. He had his parents. He made new friends. The demons and angels couldn't find him. He was happy. And yet his happiness still was a lie. His parents lied to him. His classmates lied to him. Even the girl he really liked lied to him. He couldn't stand the lies. So he stopped the lies. He stopped them from lying ever again. And then he ran.

This time he kept on running. He was just a kid at the time. He didn't know any better. He just kept running. He wasn't sure what from. The demons couldn't find him. He wasn't sure why. But he kept on running.

But things started getting worse and worse. For many nights in row, he could feel himself getting more and more powerful. Then one day, it was ripped from him. In the dead of night. Jesse remembered the pain like it had happened yesterday. The razor-sharp talons clawing at his ribcage, ripping out something behind his flesh and bones. Pure white hot pain spread through his entire body, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Every bone in his body was liquid and useless. If it was even possible to scream out in excruciating pain, he would not have been able to because his vocal cords had been torn from him. And then, just as quickly as it came, it was over.

Yet still that was not the worst of it. The feeling that came after it was. A part of him was gone. Physically he was fine. But something had reached in to his soul. Taken his power. He had never felt that sense of loneliness in his life. He was so.. empty.

After that night, he found that he couldn't just run anymore. He couldn't just imagine being in a certain place and then appear there automatically. If he was lucky, he was able to maybe get about ten feet away, but not without a major migraine and a complementary nosebleed. He couldn't do turn monsters into statues with one wink. He couldn't move things with his mind. He was almost completely powerless.

The demons didn't seem to care though. He had also lost the ability to conceal his whereabouts. Jesse could still handle them though. One touch and there would be soulless meat suits lying in front of his feet. That didn't seem to scare them. In fact, nothing scared them. They never seemed to give up on Jesse, and he was met with one everywhere he went. He was never sure if they were trying to kill him or drag him back to hell with them. They didn't talk. Or he just didn't give him time to.

After a week of excruciating pain, Jesse went searching for answers. He went to find the Winchesters. And he'd been doing that for years now. Every time he thought he had a lead on their whereabouts it would be wrong. Sometimes he so close. He tracked Dean down in his first year of searching through various whispers and such through the demons and some hunters he came across in his search. He came just in time to see him leave. He was with a woman and a boy around his age. They were too far away for him to teleport. The boy noticed him though. He was staring at the back window. Jesse gave him a sad smile and the boy replied with a sorry nod. That was the closest he had ever come to finding the Winchesters.

On occasion, he would be hot on their trail. Just one town over. Hunting a Kitsune or a Vetala. He'd get distracted. It might've been some exceptionally pretty girl. It might've been that he'd been shoplifting to get any decent food and clothing. He might've got caught up with a different monster. So they would slip out of his grasp every single time. Sometimes he'd give up. Then motivate himself again. He didn't even want to know why he didn't have his powers. He just wanted to finally find the Winchesters and he promised himself that he wouldn't give up.

That all changed the year he turned seventeen. It was worse than 2009. Natural disasters happened daily worldwide. Millions were killed. Before he would get two demon attacks weekly. It may have been bad but he could handle it. Now he two demons visited him daily, if he was lucky. They were literally everywhere. He knew. He could see past the people they possessed. The celebrities, the politicians, the people that sold ad space for the radio. He just trusted no one was human anymore.

He learned to begin to enjoy running. He was fast enough. Faster than the demons. Faster than the monsters. It was one of the only powers he still had. He loved the way the air whipped through his dark messy hair. He loved the way the wind didn't just whistle in the his ears, it screeched, blocking out the whole world. His legs would move and he would run. That was the end of it. It was so simple. So straightforward. There was gray stuck between the black and white. Only a bright light that didn't hurt like it once had. For just that short period of time, he was free. More than that, he was fulfilled.


	3. Claire

**Just a quick A/N: If anyone could beta for me that would be immensely appreciated. Enjoy the chapter! **

**Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns the show and the characters associated with the show, not me.**

**Chapter 2: Claire**

_It's funny how one word can change the course of your entire life. _

Claire Novak stood there in freezing cold thinking about that one word. _Yes. _It had screwed her over beyond imagination. Really it was more of her father that had been screwed over. She liked to think it affected her just as much as it affected him, because while he was out being possessed by an angel or something like that, she was stuck on earth. She knew about the things that were out there, in the dark. Sometimes she couldn't sleep at night because of it. They haunted her dreams, casting their dark shadows on her memories. Bringing back her time with the angels. The vicious, vicious angels. Since those she'd just kept moving. It was her and her mother against world sometimes. Or well, it used to be.

She was just so tired of it all. The demons invading the Earth. The constant death threat that lay over her and everybody else's head. Claire just wanted it all to be over. But she knew it couldn't be. Death had become a fate much worse than living now. So she just tried to live as normally as possible.

She had had a date today. For one day she could be happy. Obviously the forces of the universe were against that. Here she was, standing in the freezing cold, in the middle fucking nowhere. She was wearing a thick black pea coat, but that didn't seem to stop the wind from going straight through the woolly fabric. Her thin plaid scarf was also not doing such a great job at concealing the only body heat she had left. An especially warm breath escaped her chapped lips then immediately formed a small white cloud.

She knew that he wasn't going to show. Their time together was too rushed. All it was were two very broken people that needed release. They just came together that night.

_Loud music blared in Claire's ears as she downed another shot of the strong, mysterious alcohol she'd been given. Her false ID along with some condoms, a small makeup kit, and a pocket knife stayed concealed in the silver clutch she'd brought with her. She'd been doing this too often the past few month. Drinking away her screwed up past and going home with some guy that'd taken advantage of her. Tonight she was especially desperate. _

_Her dreams from night before had brought back especially painful. Her mother's death. Amelia being tortured in every possible way the demon knew how while she keeping her alive. Claire being tied to a pole, forced to watch. The last blow that finally put her over the edge. The mysterious dark-haired girl that freed her and killed the demon. She hated that girl. She should've been the one to kill the demon. Or at least the girl should've let her die there. But she didn't. She just disappeared and left Claire with her mother's butchered body. That whole entire time her father's voice repeated the last he'd ever said to her, over and over again in her head. "Take care of your mom okay Bub?". She had failed._

_Before she realized it, she had downed two more shots of whatever it was she was drinking. Her whole body was buzzing and her mind was slowly beginning to get to a peaceful state. A boy with dark, messy hair came and sat beside her. It seemed as though he was even younger than Claire, which made her wonder how he even got in the club. The blonde bartender also seemed to have the same thoughts, as she neglected him until he flagged her down and ordered a beer. _

_Claire stared at him for as long as she could without the alcohol blinding her. He seemed like her type; male and somewhat attractive. She clenched her teeth together and heightened her lip. It was the closest she'd come to a smile in her drunken state. She placed her elbow on the counter and turned her body towards the boy. "Hi, my name's Claire. What's yours?" she asked, as flirty as possible._

_He failed to acknowledge her, only later quietly muttering "Names are too important. I don't give mine out to just anyone."_

_"Well I'm not just anyone." Claire laughed. _

_The nameless boy turned his head, Claire could now get a good look at his face. She was taken aback. It wasn't that he was ugly, or had husky eyes, or anything like that. His face was just so damaged. She could see the fading bruises and the well-hidden white scars. The way his tongue flicked, she could tell he had tasted his own blood before, even on multiple occasions. But his eyes told the real story. They were warm at one point, but now they were empty. So completely and utterly empty. His gaze was cold and broken, he couldn't hide that. She knew the look. Because it was the look she saw every time she'd look in the mirror. _

_He seemed to have found the same things on her face. So compelled by this boy, she leaned in and kissed him, soft lips pushing against hard and chapped. He deepened the kiss and grabbed the back of her head, her light hair running through his finger. One thing lead to another and Claire woke up in some cheap motel bed, half-clothed._

_She groaned as she lifted up, her head pounding. She tried to remember the events of the night before. The club. The drinks. The boy. The usual. No wait, something was different. She fought past the painful migraine and tried to remember. The boy. It was the boy. He was like her. Broken. Empty. Tired. _

_She lay back down trying to remember the details and the bed replied with a loud creak. She stared up at the blank ceiling ,while simultaneously fidgeting in the bed in attempt to make herself more comfortable. That's when she heard a familiar crunching noise. She scrambled frantically through the sheets and found a crumpled sheet of paper with messy words scribbled on to it._

_Meet me at Glenson Park, 3:00pm. _

_I'm sorry about what happened to your mother. _

_I'd like to get a chance to talk to you sober, I can relate._

_Claire cursed her tendency to talk in her sleep. She gathered what little clothes she could find and headed back to her small apartment to get ready._

She brought herself back to reality, or rather, the Ice Age-like temperatures did. The wind kept whistling louder and louder in her ears, until it became almost unbearable. It screeching a banshee's song. Claire fell on her knees and the cold snow went straight through her jeans, in mix between melting from her body heat and freezing from the temperature. Her hair sat at her shoulder, with clumps of it in hands, blocking her ears from the noise. The wind had stopped but the noise was still there. She tried to look up, but was blinded by a bright, white light that made it seem like her eyes could burn out.

Despite the circumstances, Claire could hear one distinct word, loud and clear:

_Help_


	4. Ben

**A/N Sorry for the lack of an update. Bless weekends.**

**Chapter 3: Ben**

_It's funny how one person can change the course of your entire life._

That's what Ben Braeden should'vebeen thinking. But he wasn't. That one person had merely changed two years of his life. One person made his life go from living the suburban dream to almost being killed by couple of demons. Those were the best two years of his life. However, Ben had close to no recollection of them. He figured the years faded with age. He was wrong. With age he slowly began to remember.

It began on the night of his sixteenth birthday. His mother was out of town, giving one of her crazy yoga lectures. He figured there were some forces up in heaven that made it the perfect time to throw a wild house party. So he did. He busted open his mom's liquor cabinet and invited a quarter of his school, and figured others would just come when they found out about it. In the end, there was a bunch of underage teenagers half-consciously puking everywhere they could find. Ben had been planning to be one of them. Instead of puking he was rewarded with a major migraine, which he had expected the next morning. It was his first time drinking more than sip of champagne on New Year's so he figured it must've been a side effect. Ben squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the pounding sensation in his skull. All he saw was black, then he heard a voice in his head. "Hey, come on."

It was low and scruffy. It had an element of familiarity to it, yet he couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was the alcohol making it up? Then he heard it again. "Ben, get them out of here!"

He looked around frantically. Everyone was either making out or attempting to dance. He confirmed his head had made it up, so he shook it off. Then it happened again.

He kept appearing in his dreams, infrequently at first, then more and more frequently over time. He had soft green eyes, but his stare was broken and untrusting. That was the first thing Ben established. Next was his body, lean, tall, and muscular. It was clear that many of his bones had been broken multiple times over, you could see it the way his fingers bent, or the way his feet moved when he was walking.

Over the course of six months, through various dreams, mid-numbing migraines, and a couple of drunk blackouts, he'd established this dude's voice and how he looked. All in all, it wasn't much to go on. You can't just send a mental picture to Search the Web Images and figure out exactly who you're looking for. He was lost. He needed a name.

Ben, of course, had been very secretive about the Migraine Man (originally he was "the man of his dreams" but he quickly decided against it). He didn't want to add himself to the large pile of crap his mom was attempting to plow through right now. She was out of a job and her boyfriend of six months had broken up with her. They needed money desperately. Ben was working two jobs and trying to juggle school in between. Not that education really mattered to him, he already was set on becoming mechanic. Lisa spent her nights crying and drinking so much that Ben was forced to hide all their alcohol.

For Ben, seeing his mother so sad was the worst part of. He'd always tried his hardest to protect her because her asshole boyfriends didn't seem to care. He'd even taught himself how to use the AMT AutoMag III they happened to own; he did this behind his mother's back of course. He discovered he had a pretty good shooting hand, for someone who'd never used a gun before. It felt familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

He'd often come to try to comfort her when she was crying. He'd assure her that everything was going to be okay. That they'd get out of this disaster. But now, looking at the never-ending pit of hell their lives had become, he found it hard not to cry with her. However, Ben stayed strong he knew no one else would.

He had become quite good at putting on a thick skin and pretending everything was okay. He had friends at school and reputation to keep up. He'd found through all the secrets he kept, he'd become a pretty good liar. Words flowed from his mouth and people believed him. Hell, give him a fake badge and a fancy suit and he could pull off being a very young-looking FBI agent. He liked to think of it as professional lying.

Today was especially craptastic for him. He had an essay for English due and a very complicated Algebra test. He of course, had forgotten about both. He was taking over his friend Lenny's shift at White Castle, so that meant three extra hours at that hellhole, plus another five hours after that at their local Duane Reade. He'd get home at twelve, drained. He'd spend a few hours consoling his mother, then maybe get a good four hours of sleep. This all happened while his head had mini-construction workers in it, painfully building the image of the mystery man.

However today Migraine Man made a different appearance. It was in the middle of his History class. His teacher, Mr. Barnes, was droning on about the War of 1812. His monotone voice almost became a lullaby as they slowly melded in to one, long hum, sending Ben off to sleep. Right before his eyes closed however, everything went black.

Migraine Man blurred in to view. He was in a warehouse with Lisa lying limply in his arms. She was barely conscious and had a large bloody wound in the middle of her stomach. Ben looked at himself. He was younger, around twelve. He was carrying a large gun, which he held uneasily in his small hands and had a short, jagged knife, covered in dry blood in his pocket. Him and Migraine Man were running. He turned his head to Ben.

"Alright Ben, keep your elbow in, gun tight to your shoulder and watch for the kick."

A man came down the staircase they were passing. "BEN!" Migraine Man shouted.

As if by instinct, Ben shot him. He collapsed on the ground, dead. Ben stared at the man, dazed. Migraine Man turned and looked at him. "Ben."

Ben didn't acknowledge him, still in his own world. That man probably had his own a life. Maybe a wife and kids. People that cared about him. Now all he was a sack of meat on the floor, because of Ben. "Ben!" Migraine Man repeated.

He still stared at the man on the ground. Then something rolled off his tongue. It had always been there, but he had just never realized. A short four letters long. So goddamn simple.

"Dean."


	5. Krissy

**A/N: Again sorry for the lack of updates. This is a pretty dark chapter, so please don't read it if you're triggered by anything suicidal. Also any reviews whatsoever would appreciated (flame if you must).**

**Chapter 4: Krissy**

_It's funny one small mistake can change the course of your entire life._

Krissy Chambers considered this more and more often. She sat on the cold floor of a large warehouse. She subconsciously stared at the salted windows and multiple devil's traps that kept those dumb sons of bitches out. She rubbed her eyes with her cleaner sleeve. They were so swollen. _Infected _she told herself constantly. _They were just infected. _And those infected eyes loved to constantly drop bucket loads of salty tears every single day. She couldn't stop them of course. She didn't have control over that kind of thing. Not anymore.

_They had done it. They were hunters but now they lived a normal life. An incredible feat. Too incredible. They should've known better. _

_They stayed in the same place for two years. He had a steady income. She went to school and even had a few friends. It was too good. Way too good._

_One call. One slip up. One goddamn mistake. It wasn't her fault. She'd repeat that over and over, dishonesty slithering through each syllable. _

_She was the one though. She was the reason why they were all dead. She was the one who trusted a demon. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know it was a demon. But she knew. Her fault. Her mistake. Her emotions had gotten the best of her. She didn't have the strength to kill it. Her stupid mistake._

Krissy found her eyes pooling with tears again. The tears slowly became sobs that eventually became loud cries of agony. She couldn't stop anything before, why should she be able to stop it now? The cries bounced off the walls and then directed themselves back at her, causing them to become louder and more violent.

She slowly got up and looked at the large array of weapons that were stacked up in front of her. She chose her preferred weapon, a small knife that had saved a few lives a long time ago. She pointed it straight at her heart, her hands shaking. A million things raced through her mind at once. They dropped the weapon, unable to follow through with her initial plan. The knife made a loud clank, as the iron met the concrete. She dropped down with it.

Krissy breathed in. The smoggy air almost always tastes like sulfur now. She dealt with it. Her tattered clothes and puffy eyes caused her to be the center of attention as she walked down to her destination. She got disapproving mothers and creepy sixty year old men studying her head to toe, judging her based on her ragged appearance. This caused her to walk significantly faster. She entered the small corner store and heard the familiar ding of the bell. She only had five dollars with her today, so she picked out the cheapest non-perishables there. She ended up with a pack of strawberry gum, canned peaches, pickled olives, and some sardines. Enough to last her a good two weeks.

She went to pay and was greeted by Jacob, the cashier.

"Hey Madison, long time no see." Jacob smiled. He was pretty young, fifteen at the most, and was yet to go through puberty. He still sounded like a nine year old, and wasn't much taller than one.

Krissy nodded in acknowledgement.

"So I'm assuming that tub of peanut and those crackers lasted you."

"Yup, a whole _two and a half_ weeks." Krissy added a needed hint of sarcasm. Her stomach grumbled loudly.

"Do want me to buy you lunch?" Jacob asked, concerned.

Krissy rolled her eyes "Maybe when you're legal."

"I didn't mean-" The young boy looked hurt.

"Mm hm" Krissy retorted weakly as she put her five on the table.

Jacob took the five and "accidently" forgot to add the peaches to the total. He gave her eighty cents back. She shook her head but took the extra change anyways and left.

When she got back to her ware-home Krissy re-salted the doors. She took a piece of gum and began chewing viciously. Her stomach enjoyed the false sensation of feeling somewhat full.

Her tears having completely wiped the energy out of her, she plopped down on the pile rags she used as a bed and fell asleep instantly.

_Fire. School. Over 500 dead. Greatest School Massacre of All Time. Murderer Committed Suicide Soon Afterwards. Identified Lee Chambers. Daughter Caught in Crossfire. _

_Hundreds of painful words flashed in Krissy's subconscious. She tried to block them, but they kept coming. More pain. Now mental images._

_Her mother. Her mother's guts on the ground in front of her. The demon. Her father. The blood gushing out of his side. Her school. Her friends. Stuck. The Fire. The warehouse she where she found the demon. The blonde girl and mother. The pure look of hatred on the blonde girl's face._

_Then the screams. All at once. Her mother's wailing. Her school's shrieks of terror; slowly dying down with each person lost. The muffled cries for help the gagged blonde had made._

Krissy woke up, beads of sweat lining her whole entire body. No. No. Not again. It was her fault. She refused to believe he was possessed. She didn't say the exorcism in time. She didn't use the knife. She didn't stop him. But he was the one that killed everyone. She didn't kill anyone. Not her fault. His.

She got up, trembling. She wasn't going to cry this time. She was going to be strong, like she used to be. She was going to suck it up and keep living. She in the dark fumbled to get a few things. A wad of cash, her newly acquired non-perishables, a few of her preferred weapons, suitable clothes, some salt. She packed them all in large, worn down suitcase.

Then she got the hell out of that stupid warehouse.


End file.
